


But This Charade Is Never Going To Last

by shallowlives



Series: ED!William and Vampire!Gabe [2]
Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Anorexia, Blood Drinking, ED!William, Eating Disorders, M/M, Purging, Self-Harm, Vampire Gabe Saporta, Vampires, it gets even more fucked up this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shallowlives/pseuds/shallowlives
Summary: “Dude,” Nate says. “Last year you used to eat like a fucking cow—”Ryland elbows him. “That’snotthe kind of thing you say to people with eating disorders.”Gabe’s jaw drops. “Wait, eating disorder? You… you guys thinkI--”He points to himself. “--have aneating disorder?”-----------In order to avoid his friends finding out he's really a vampire, Gabe decides the best course of action is to encourage his boyfriend, William's, actual eating disorder with disastrous consequences.
Relationships: William Beckett/Gabe Saporta
Series: ED!William and Vampire!Gabe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038177
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	But This Charade Is Never Going To Last

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write a part 2 to the last fic! If you haven't read it yet, go back to part 1 in the series for context. It's not awfully long, only like half the size of this one.
> 
> I should warn you ahead of time, this one gets a lot darker and messed up. PLEASE READ THE TAGS FOR POSSIBLE TRIGGERS. It's the usual eating disordered behavior as in the last part but with a few added things.
> 
> So... yeah. Enjoy?
> 
> **Hotlines and resources for eating disorders: https://edresources.carrd.co/**

William likes watching the numbers on the treadmill climb.

3.0 mph. 10 minutes. 30 minutes. 3.5 mph. 60. 3.7 mph. 80.

And he doesn’t intend on stepping off until he sees hazy, wavering-in-his-vision 90, his legs absolutely nothing beneath him. Empty skin, empty muscle. For a few moments, ethereal.

_ I can do this, _ William knows, as he continues to walk, hair growing matted with sweat. Because he does this nearly every day. By now, it’s simply routine to go up to the treadmill stored in the guest room as soon as he’s finished his homework.

A sharp, stabbing pain in his hip causes him to stumble. He barely catches himself before he falls, gripping the treadmill’s handles with his slippery fingers and jabbing the button to decrease the speed. 86 minutes.  _ So close. _ So close, William almost feels pissed at himself for something of no fault of his own. He could have gotten to 90 if he had just tried. Maybe tomorrow.

The treadmill slows to a stop, blinking out the final numbers of his workout.  _ Speed, miles, calories, time, _ as he grabs his water bottle and chugs what’s left of it, yanks out his earbuds and pauses the pop-punk music that had been blasting in his ears for needed motivation.

As he leans against the treadmill, catching his breath, watching the numbers repeatedly flash, his cell phone starts vibrating. Gabe’s calling. William accepts the call and raises the phone to his ear.

“Hey,” he practically gasps out.

“Are you jacking off or exercising?”

William rolls his eyes. “Haha, very funny. I think we all know the answer to that.”

“Bilvy,” Gabe says disappointedly. William frowns.

“I know,” he says.

Gabe wants him to stop. He’s been trying for the last month to get him to stop, gentle encouragement here and there.

But William doesn’t plan on stopping. His logic is infallible.

You see, William’s thought process is as follows; if his relationship with Gabe continues to go well, then at some point Gabe will probably turn him into a vampire. As far as he knows (not that he’s ever had the guts to ask about it), William’s body would be forever. Infinite. Unchanging. And needless to say, William is pretty sure he wouldn’t want to be a fat vampire. End of story.

This is just one of many ridiculous excuses his head makes up.

“How long were you exercising for?”

“Only twenty minutes,” William lies. “It’s nothing to be worried about. Seriously.”

Gabe sighs. “Alright, if you say so. But really, you don’t need to workout every day. You don’t need to lose any more weight, Bilvy, you’re already skinny enough. I’m concerned about you.”

“There’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Says the guy who taught me how to chew and spit.”

“Says the guy who still does it,” William retaliates, and with a smile, he says playfully, “You’re not making a very good point.”

“I’m being serious, William. You need help.”

“You tell me that every day, and I turn out just fine.” William uncaps his water bottle and swallows a last couple gulps, soothing his dry throat. “Look, I’ve gotta study for the Spanish test, but we can talk after dinner, okay?”

“Bullshit, you still cheat off me for Spanish—”

“Talk to ‘ya later,” William interrupts, and he hangs up, slamming his phone back into the treadmill cup holder before going to refill his water bottle.

  
  
  
  


After checking the online lunch calendar to make sure it’s not Spaghetti Day anytime soon, Gabe heads to the cafeteria as soon as third period ends and plops his backpack down at his friends’ usual table. Ryland and Vicky are already there. “You wanna stand in the lunchline with us?” Vicky asks.

“Sure,” Gabe says. He usually does, to keep up appearances and keep his friends company. And sometimes William will take slightly more food than he usually does on the rare occasion he sees Gabe behind him in line, eyes burning through him, so that’s always good.

They only have to wait in line three minutes before they finally get to the front and take their trays. Gabe doesn’t take a tray and instead sticks his hands in the pockets of his purple hoodie. Vicky nudges him.

“It’s mac n’ cheese today,” she says, pointing ahead to rich, orange lumps of noodles that a lunch lady is spooning onto someone’s tray.

“Yeah, you love mac n’ cheese,” Ryland says. “You should get lunch today.”

Gabe shakes his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Ryland and Vicky exchange looks. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am every day.”

“...Oookay,” Vicky says, laced with uncertainty, and she slides her tray up the line, glancing back at Gabe again. As the lunch lady dumps tater tots onto her tray, Vicky turns back to Gabe and asks him, “Do you want any of my tater tots?”

Gabe opens his mouth to say no, but before he can, Ryland hisses something into her ear. Her eyes immediately widen, and she says almost ashamedly, “Sorry,” to Gabe before averting her eyes and moving up the line.

Gabe furrows a brow. “Sorry for what? Ryland, what’d you say to her?”

Ryland and Vicky look at each other yet again as they hold out their trays for green beans, and Gabe presses,  _ “What?” _

“We’ll discuss it at the table,” Ryland says. “When Alex and Nate get to lunch.”

Gabe stares at them. “Sure?”

While Ryland and Vicky get the rest of their lunch, Gabe keeps his hands fisted in his purple hoodie pockets, nails digging into his palms as he wonders what they could possibly want to talk to him about. Since William, Gabe’s learned his lesson about automatically assuming suspicion means suspicion he’s a vampire, so he knows it has to be something else. But  _ what? _ The only possibility Gabe keeps going back to is that they  _ know, _ they’ve finally figured it out.

He really hopes they haven’t figured it out, even with how much he avoids garlic and therefore the fabled monthly Spaghetti Day. He’s lucky enough William was willing to keep his secret, considering he had his own, but Gabe has no idea how his own friends would react. Maybe they wouldn’t tell the world, but he’s sure they’d at least be shocked if they found out details such as how Gabe feeds, which would likely horrify them enough to abandon him for good.

An awkward silence falls over their table once they’re out of the lunch line, Ryland and Vicky gingerly gnawing on their food, every bite cautious as they keep looking at Gabe. It’s unsettling, to say the least. Gabe catches a glimpse of William as he walks past with his own friends, and texts him,  **_ry and vicky t are acting weird D: send help!_ **

William texts back sarcastically,  **_so they don’t always stare daggers at u while they eat? but fr, is everything ok?_ **

Before Gabe can text William back and explain the situation, Alex and Nate sit down. They seem just as concerned, shoulders weighed down with a sense of foreboding. They’ve obviously planned this intervention with Ryland and Vicky ahead of time.

“We want to talk to you,” Alex says, not even bothering to unpack his lunch box filled with the leftovers of whatever artisanal dish he’d made for himself last night. “We’ve been…” He fiddles with the strap of his backpack next to him. “Worried?”

“Worried?” Gabe asks. “About what?”

“We haven’t seen you eat in a while,” Ryland says carefully. “Is everything okay? You never have lunch anymore.”

Gabe shrugs. “Everything’s fine, I just don’t really get hungry in the middle of the day.”

“Dude,” Nate says. “Last year you used to eat like a fucking cow—”

Ryland elbows him. “That’s  _ not _ the kind of thing you say to people with eating disorders.”

Gabe’s jaw drops. “Wait, eating disorder? You… you guys think  _ I--”  _ He points to himself. “--have an  _ eating disorder?” _

“Yeah,” Vicky says, mournfully dragging her plastic fork through her green beans. “We do.”

“Guys,” Gabe says, his palm lightly hitting the table. “I  _ don’t _ have an eating disorder.”

“I saw you,” Nate whispers under his breath, and everyone turns to him.

“Saw me what?”

“Last week, in the library,” he mutters. “You were chewing and spitting the donut I had given you that morning.”

Gabe’s stomach drops. He remembers the donut, the way the glaze shone under the white-washed library lights, the way the soft crumbs and icing flaked off on his tongue, the way the paper crinkled as he’d unwrapped it from the donut and placed it in his palm to spit into. He had texted William first to ask if he wanted it, but of course he had said no. Now he’s wishing he pressed William a little harder to take it, for both their sakes.

“It’s not what you think,” Gabe swears to them. “I do  _ not _ have an eating disorder. I just… had an upset stomach that day and you sorta forced the donut on me.”

“You chewed and spit the scrambled eggs I made you a few weeks ago too,” Alex adds. “The napkin… fell out of the trash.”

“Whether you like it or not,” Ryland says. “Chewing and spitting is eating-disordered behavior.”

“Guys, guys, I do not have an eating disorder!” Gabe insists. “Listen to me. I don’t! I’m not an anorexic or anything! It’s just that…” He trails off, unsure how to explain, unsure how to lie.

“You can tell us, Gabe,” Vicky says, voice sickly-sweet like she’s coaxing one of her dogs out from under the couch. “I know it must be hard, but you’re not alone. We want to help you.”

Gabe throws his hands up defensively. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”

“We’re not saying there’s anything wrong, we just want--”

Gabe shoots out of his seat, snatching up his backpack. “I’m going to go sit with William.”

“Gabe--” Ryland protests, but his attempt is useless. Gabe is already storming away in the direction of William’s table. William is picking at his mac n’ cheese when Gabe suddenly dumps his backpack on the empty chair next to him, causing William to jump in his seat and drop his plastic spoon.

“Gabe, you scared me!” William says, and Gabe yanks out the empty seat, pushing his backpack off to sit down. “Is... everything okay?”

Gabe lets out an exhale. “Not really. You wouldn’t believe what they just fucking said to me.”

“What’d they say?” Mike asks, a green bean hanging out of his mouth, and Gabe notices the rest of William’s friends are also at the table, as one would expect them to be. Of course.

Gabe turns back to William. “Actually, I think we should talk about this in private.”

“Sure.” William stands up, secretly thankful to have an excuse to avoid eating his mac n’ cheese despite how his stomach pangs with hunger. He gives his friends a quick wave before following Gabe outside of the cafeteria doors and into the empty hallway, where they stop in front of a vibrant student-made mural. “What’s up? Is this about them acting weird?”

“Yeah,” Gabe admits. “Thing is… they think I have an eating disorder.”

William’s eyes widen, and he gasps, “No.”

“Yeah,” Gabe confirms. “Apparently Nate saw me chewing and spitting the donut he gave me last week, and Alex found one of my napkins.”

“Gabe,” William says softly, reaching out to take his hand. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

Gabe shakes his head. “Not really. I thought the worst thing would be them figuring out I’m a vampire, but  _ this? _ I can’t just tell them the truth.”

William nods understandingly. “And they didn’t believe you when you said you didn’t have an eating disorder?”

“They didn’t.”

“We’re gonna figure this out,” William promises. “You could prove to them somehow that you don’t. I mean, you’re really strong, and you wouldn’t be if you were starving yourself, right?”

Gabe shrugs weakly. “I don’t know if that’d be enough.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell them you’re…”

“I shouldn’t,” Gabe says. “I mean, it’d make everything so much easier, but I don’t know what they’d think. I shouldn’t even exist, I’m a  _ vampire. _ An eating disorder is a way more reasonable conclusion to come to.”

“You have time to decide what to do,” William says. “But for now, just try to act as normal as possible so they don’t get worried enough to tell anyone else. As long as you seem like you’re doing alright, they’ll lay off.”

“Right,” Gabe says with an inflection of realization, and his eyes shine. “Wait, I have an idea!”

_ Oh no, _ William thinks. Gabe Saporta has an  _ idea. _ Tentatively, he asks, “What is it?”

“If they see how a  _ real _ anorexic acts--”

“Gabe!” William interrupts, shocked and wide-eyed. “You can’t be serious! I can’t let anyone else know!”

“My friends hardly know yours,” Gabe says. “They wouldn’t say a word. Maybe if I tell them I was chewing and spitting to like, get inside your head to see how to help you, and you act really fucked-up in front of them so they see how a real anorexic behaves…” He stops, knowing he’s about to start rambling, and instead pleads, “Please, Bilvy, I can’t tell them I’m a vampire! Just do this for me, alright?” He squeezes William’s hand. “I’ll seriously owe you one.”

William chews on his bottom lip in decision. On one hand, this sounds like a very bad idea. On the other hand, this still sounds like a very bad idea. William is  _ extremely _ protective with who he lets in on his secret; so far, Gabe’s the only non-internet friend that knows. Otherwise, William always keeps his phone face-down whether he sets it down to keep anyone from seeing incriminating notifications, and in order to look normal in front of his friends whenever they plan in advance to eat out, he’ll fast any amount of time from a few hours before to over twenty-four hours depending on how much he plans to eat. And even though he’s mastered the art of chewing and spitting, he has to use that tactic sparingly as well; there are only so many times you can raise a napkin to your mouth before someone takes notice.

No matter what, he’ll be skinny. And the best way to do that is to hide it from all his ignorant friends, who naturally attribute his weight to his height, his unnaturally-high metabolism, and the fact he ran track for a year and then still kept working out even after quitting. They’re not only in the dark, they’re fucking  _ blind, _ and it’s always going to be that way.

“Well…” William says, even though just considering it goes against everything he’s just thought. “I guess it’s not out of the realm of possibility.”

_ Stupid. You’re fat. And stupid. _

“But I have a few conditions,” William quickly adds. “If I do this for you, you’re not allowed to groan about my disordered behavior while I’m helping you.”

“Fine, that’s totally fine,” Gabe assures him. “Anything else?”

“And… I’d like you to bite me again.”

Gabe freezes. “Bilvy, we can’t risk that--”

_ Six-hundred calories _ is the only discernible phrase that runs through William’s head.  _ SIX! HUNDRED! CALORIES!!! _

“We haven’t done it since the first time,” William reminds Gabe, readjusting his boney grip around his hand. “Obviously, by now my body’s made the blood back up, and I’d eat before and after, I swear. Do you want me to help or not? I’m sacrificing a lot by showing off my  _ mental illness _ in front of all your friends, you know.”

“Fine,” Gabe relents with a huff. “I’ll bite you again. So… deal?”

“Deal,” William says with a smile, and he presses a kiss to his cheek.

  
  
  
  


“The thing is,” Gabe tells his friends when he arrives back at his own lunch table, William in tow after dragging his feet behind him,  _ “I’m _ not the one with an eating disorder.”

Everyone looks up at him in confusion and disbelief.

“It’s William,” he continues, and William meekly waves to them, keeping his eyes on the floor.

“Gabe, we literally saw you chewing and spitting,” Nate says. “Don’t just pass this off on your new boyfriend. That’s just shitty.”

Gabe sits down, voice hushed as he leans over the table to tell them, “I was only chewing and spitting to get into his head, since that’s what he does, so I could figure out how to help him.”

“And how do you explain not eating lunch, then?” Ryland asks with a degree of dubiousness.

“I was too worried about him to eat,” Gabe says. He’s already got this figured out; after William had agreed to be his cover-up, William had brought up anything Gabe did that could be misconstrued as disordered, and they’d put together a believable-enough story to answer any potential questions. “I know I didn’t start dating William ‘til like, last month, but before then we started talking over the summer and when he confided in me about his eating disorder and how bad it was, I don’t know… I just didn’t feel right.”

“You don’t need to worry so much,” William grumbles, bristling and crossing his arms for believability. It’s not even a lie; he does wish Gabe would worry less. Sometimes all the variations of  _ are you okay? _ are validating; other times, they’re annoying.

Everyone’s eyes look to William, and Alex asks him, “Is this all true?”

William huffs, “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Vicky says. “It feels more like a cover-up to me. Gabe, you’ve been really weird lately--”

“And William’s been even weirder,” Gabe finishes. “You’ll see.”

Vicky makes finger quotations as she repeats,  _ “‘We’ll see?’ _ Um, I don’t think William has to prove anything for you.” She whirls around to face the rest of the table. “None of you believe this,  _ do  _ you?”

“Yeah, it feels sketchy,” Ryland says.

“Can’t you just like, eat a burger in front of us without crying or something?” Nate asks.

“That’s not how it works,” William says, half-distracted by trailing the tips of his fingers against the edge of the lunch table. “That wouldn’t prove anything.”

“We’re not saying anything needs to be proved--” Ryland starts to explain, but then William leans down on the lunch table, his cold glare stopping him in his tracks.

“I  _ will _ prove it,” he hisses. “I  _ am _ a real anorexic. And if it’s a competition, I’ll fucking win.”

Ryland shrinks back in his seat at the smug smirk that forms on William’s lips. Unsure how exactly to reply to that statement, he mutters anticlimactically, “Well, alright then.”

William draws back, and Gabe catches the glint in his eyes, the malicious way his mouth turns up. Gabe’s stomach twists into knots; this can’t be good.

But it’s necessary. It’s far better for them to think William, the one actually suffering with an eating disorder, is the anorexic rather than Gabe.

Nothing will change. Absolutely nothing.

  
  
  


An opportunity to prove himself comes when William is invited to join Gabe and his friends after school, when they decide to hang out on the train tracks a couple blocks away.

“This seems kinda dangerous,” William says, even though he’s currently focused on jumping hopping back and forth over the tracks, like some middle school gym class exercise he remembers vaguely. He might as well burn a couple calories while he’s here, right? “I feel like I’ve heard a lot of stories about kids on train tracks getting run over.”

“Nah, it’s all good,” Gabe assures him, standing beside him and watching him jump over the tracks, eyes darting back and forth as they follow William’s leaping sneakers, then glances at his friends, who are further down the track and out of earshot. Nate and Vicky are chasing each other, while Ryland is trying to take some artistic selfie with Alex with the sunset as their backdrop. “If a train does come, I’ll hear it. Vampire ears.”

“Ah,” William says, and continues to jump over the track, the tips of his shoes hitting the gravel with a satisfying  _ crunch, _ over and over.

“You should probably knock that off,” Gabe suggests. “You could trip over the tracks.”

“I won’t,” William says, somewhat breathy. “I’m just burning a couple calories. Do you think this is the same amount of activity as jumping rope is? Although, I guess I’m not swinging my arms, but--”

“Bilvy, you don’t need to exercise any more than you already do--”

William lands on his feet on the inside of the tracks and stops, whirling around to face Gabe. “I thought you wanted me to act disordered. You’re not allowed to stop me if you want to prove a point to your friends, or I’m out.”

“You don’t need to really go above and beyond, though--”

“But I  _ have _ to go above and beyond,” William says, convinced. “I have to act more fucked up than you, or they’ll never believe this for a second. I gotta give them something to really worry about. I have to be  _ exemplary.” _

Gabe sighs. “Fine.” As William goes back to jumping over the train tracks, he adds, “But when you’ve proven your point to my friends, you have to start listening to me again.”

“Uh-huh,” William says detachedly, hopping back and forth. “Totally.”

A few moments later, Ryland and Alex have finished taking their selfie in front of the sunset, and make their way over to William and Gabe. “What are you guys doing?”

“Burning calories,” William exhales. “Do you think this burns the same amount of calories as jumping rope? I’m not sure, because I’m not swinging my arms that much. Maybe it’s more like three-fourths of the calories.” He glances up at the two, still jumping over the track. “What do you guys think?”

Alex raises his eyebrows. “Uh… I don’t know.”

“Pity,” William exhales, laced with chagrin. He looks back down at his feet. They feel lighter. His hips are starting to jab at him again, the dull stab of ache that pokes at him from constant overexercise.

“So,” Ryland holds up his phone. “Do you guys all wanna take photos together after Vicky and Nate are done chasing each other--”

The stabbing in William’s hips transforms into a full-on sharp jolt of pain, causing him to hiss between gritted teeth,  _ “Fuck,” _ and sends him flying backward. Gabe’s arm shoots out, catching him by his hand just in time. He pulls William back up, allowing him to stumble into him.

“You okay?” Gabe asks, brow creased with concern. “Did you trip?”

William winces, bringing a hand up to cradle his hip as the pain ebbs away. “No,” he says, and he looks up, straight at Ryland and Alex as he says, “It was my hip. My body doesn’t know how to fucking handle exercising every day. Sometimes,” he adds, just for effect, “my hips hurt just walking. Oh well.”

“Uhh,” Alex says. “Maybe you shouldn’t exercise every day?”

William laughs, cold and blunt, and replies firmly, “No.”

Ryland and Alex both give Gabe a strange look, to which Gabe shrugs. “I try to stop him,” he swears, exasperation in his tone. “He doesn’t listen.”

“Um… well, alright then,” Ryland says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “So. Pictures?”

“Sounds good,” Gabe says. “I’ll go get Nate and Victoria.”

  
  
  
  


They all take turns taking cool-looking photos of each other on the train tracks as the sun continues its descent toward the horizon, the orange glow of sunset lighting their cheekbones and eyes with a fiery glow that is, in Gabe’s words, “Sorta badass, I guess,” when he’s handed back his cell phone and sees his own pictures. “Do you want me to take photos of you next, Bill?”

“Sure,” William says, and he hands Gabe his cell phone before stepping back a few feet onto the tracks and attempting to pose, chin tilted up and hands on his hips, the bones of his neck jutting out. “Does this look cool?”

“Cool?” Gabe snaps a picture. “You look sexy as  _ fuck! _ I’d let you--”

“Get a room,” Vicky interrupts. Gabe turns to stare daggers at her before resuming the impromptu photoshoot.

“I was going to make a very good joke, for your information,” Gabe says defensively, as William switches up his pose by turning at a three-fourths angle. “I was going to say ‘I’d let you  _ rail _ me,’ because get it? We’re on train tracks? So thanks, Vicky, for ruining my amazing joke.”

“It’s not  _ that _ good,” she says.

“I think it’s pretty good,” Nate says, and Vicky rolls her eyes.

When Gabe’s finished taking pictures of William, he hands the cell phone back to him as he steps off the tracks, allowing him to look through his own photos while Ryland starts taking Vicky’s photos. However, William’s reaction isn’t what Gabe expected; he’s oddly silent as he goes through the pictures, eyes bulging with repulsion. And then he sucks in a breath.

“What is it?” Gabe asks. “Are they bad? Because I can take more--”

“No, you did fine,” William says with unease. “It’s just that…” He glances up from his cell phone. “I… I look so  _ fat _ in them.”

“What? No!” Gabe snatches the cell phone from William to see exactly what he’s talking about, and he can’t see. William is all protruding collarbones and stick-thin limbs and nonexistent stomach and loose clothes; there isn’t at all a spare shred of fat on his body. “I don’t know what you mean. You’re  _ gorgeous! _ And this angle is really flattering, too.”

“But I’m  _ not _ gorgeous!” William tries to wrest the cell phone away from Gabe, but his vampiric grip doesn’t exactly make that easy, so instead William points to the photo. “Look! That’s absolutely disgusting!”

“You’re being ridiculous--”

“Am I _wrong?”_ William asks, narrowing his eyebrows at Gabe. And even though he’s well-aware that the spat is attracting the attention of Gabe’s friends, Ryland long since having put down Vicky’s cell phone to watch, he’s not even playing it up for specifically them. All he can feel is absolute revulsion, bubbling hot and queasy from the pit of his stomach and in the back of his throat. _Fat, so fat._ _FAT!_ The loathing crushes his lungs, sending a shot of panic up from his veins, sucking all the air away from him. “I’m… I’m fucking disgusting!”

“Bilvy,” Gabe gently says, reaching out for his hand. “You are  _ not--” _

William flinches at Gabe’s touch, yanking his hand away and stumbling back. “I am!”

“Listen to me, William,” Gabe tries, “you aren’t--”

And then William breaks down sobbing, falling to his knees and his hands flying up to dig into his hair. And Ryland, Alex, Vicky, and Nate’s eyes are all glued to the scene of Gabe kneeling beside William and attempting to comfort him while William bawls and tries not to rip his hair out.

  
  
  
  


“I mean, obviously it wasn’t the  _ best _ situation,” Gabe says. They’re still sitting in his car after pulling up to William’s house a few minutes previous, preoccupied by their lengthy conversation although the sky is pitch-black and homework still remains to be done. “But there’s no way that they’ll think  _ I’m _ the anorexic after something like that.”

Gabe has already previously made his point clear that he does care about William, and he thinks he’s the exact opposite of ugly and disgusting, and while he would love for William to recover, he understands that it’s not as easy as it sounds but wants him to know he’ll always be there for him. Which William has heard a million times before and barely listened to, so now, William nods at Gabe’s remark and even cracks a small smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Like, obviously I don’t want you to have panic attacks,” Gabe says with a grin, even though William doesn’t think that really needs to be said. “But like, you seriously did great tonight! Like, honestly, feel free to do whatever the hell you want in front of my friends. As long as you’re there to distract them, they’ll never suspect a thing about me!”

William’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Just don’t take it too far,” Gabe advises. But he doesn’t delve into what would be considered ‘too far,’ and William doesn’t ask.

“Got it,” William agrees. Even though his breakdown had been draining, he hardly feels it now; energy thrums in his veins, excitement that as long as Gabe can use him, William can, quite literally, do whatever he wants. No clearly defined limits; just upholding his end of the deal is enough, and Gabe doesn’t need to know what extremes William has or is willing to go to. “So, if I did a good job,” he asks suggestively, “does that mean you’ll bite me again?”

Gabe’s grin fades away, and he presses his lips together in thought. “I don’t know. Not tonight.”

William frowns. “But you  _ promised!” _

“That I would eventually, but it doesn’t need to be tonight.”

_ Six-hundred calories, _ William’s mind reminds him.  _ If he bites you now, that’s six-hundred less calories of fat you’ll have to see next time you take pictures on the train tracks. Six-hundred less calories of fat that Gabe will have to put up with. Six-hundred, six-hundred, six-hundred. _

“Please?” William pleads. “I think it really might help take the edge off after I did have that whole freakout and all.”

“William--”

“My parents aren’t home. They won’t see if you come inside for just a bit. Please?”

Gabe sighs, giving in. “Fine, but I’m going to watch you eat afterward. I’m not forgetting you barely ate lunch and that you haven’t eaten anything since we got out of school.”

“More than fine with me,” William says. A little food couldn’t hurt, but only because he didn’t eat breakfast either.

  
  
  
  


As soon as Gabe enters William’s kitchen, he makes a beeline for the fridge without bothering to switch on the lights, flinging open the freezer and taking out a boxed pizza that he throws onto the counter. “I’ll heat this up for you.”

“Fine,” William says, leaning against the kitchen doorway and watching through the darkness as Gabe rips open the box. “How much of it do I need to eat?”

“Just a few slices-- oh  _ fuck!” _ Gabe drops the box, clutching his nose. “I didn’t realize it’d have  _ garlic  _ on it. Gross!”

William walks over, picking up the box. “It’s pizza, what do you expect?” He throws it back into the freezer, because even though the box has already been ripped open, the pizza is still plastic-wrapped. Maybe he’ll binge on it later when Gabe’s not here to smell the garlic. “So do I get a free pass from eating, then?”

Gabe shakes his head, sniffling before tentatively uncovering his nose. The air still stings slightly, but the effects of the pizza at least are miniscule, the garlic fading away as quickly as it came now that the source is gone. “No. You’re still eating something. Just not pizza.”

“Or you could just bite me first and we’ll decide what I eat later.” William cocks an eyebrow. “It worked fine last time.”

Gabe steps past him to pry open the fridge, the dim light splaying across the features of his face. Sharp cheekbones, sharp jawline. “Nice try, but we’re not doing that.”

“Or…” William leans over Gabe as he’s bent toward the fridge, whispering in his ear with a tone of temptation, “You could bite me, and I could not eat, and I’d make sure to pass out right in front of your friends tomorrow.”

Gabe scoffs, but he doesn’t completely discourage the idea.  _ Interesting, _ William thinks. After a moment of deliberation, Gabe says, “I don’t think fainting is exactly the kind of thing you can control.”

“Oh, sure it is,” William says passively. “It’s easy. For me, at least. I could totally induce it if I tried, especially if I was weak from you drinking my blood and not eating afterwards.”

“Doesn’t sound like a very good idea to me,” Gabe comments, even though at this point, he’s really not trying to look for anything in the fridge. By now, William would have expected a yogurt to be shoved at him and for that to be that, but he’s doing surprisingly well. As much as Gabe would want to deny it, William knows that he  _ needs _ his boyfriend’s eating disorder to distract his friends from the true nature of his sudden distaste for food.

“Trust me,” William hisses into his ear. He reaches toward Gabe’s face, thumb stroking across his bottom lip and gently prodding at the tips of his fangs. “I know what I’m doing.”

“That’s the thing,” Gabe says, but he doesn’t bother to push William’s fingers away from his mouth. Instead, he shuts the fridge, blanketing the kitchen in darkness once more, and stands upright again, turning toward William. “You don’t know what you’re doing, or you wouldn’t be doing this to yourself.”

“I know  _ exactly _ what I’m doing to myself, for your information,” William defends, bristling. “What I mean is that I’ve been doing this for years. I know how to have an eating disorder, and you’re the only one who’s found out so far, at least by accident. If you want me to keep at this so your friends don’t find out the real reason why you hate garlic so damn much, you’re going to have to put a certain amount of faith in me.”

“Bilvy--”

William, tired of this, decides to promptly end the conversation by yanking open the knife drawer. He grabs a steak knife and swiftly slices into the palm of his hand, holding it up for Gabe to watch as blood oozes out of the thin slit in his skin and drips down his arm. Mesmerized, Gabe inhales the aroma, the previous quarrel forgotten.

William smirks. Although Gabe’s the vampire here, he’s the one who has him backed into a corner.

“What?” he teases, waving his bleeding hand in front of Gabe’s face. Gabe’s eyes follow.

“You can’t just do that…” Gabe says, dazed but hardly bothered. “It’s not fair.”

“Not fair?” William raises his bleeding palm to Gabe’s lips and shudders as his tongue drags over it, licking the gash clean for a brief moment before more blood appears, staining Gabe’s lips red as it continues to drip. “More?”

Gabe nods, his pupils dilated and startlingly small, almost like tiny black specks. William doesn’t know why Gabe wouldn’t believe he’d have his eating disorder under his control when just  _ this _ is so easy.

“Good,” William mutters under his breath, hoping his relief at this isn’t too noticeable. He places the red-dotted steak knife on the counter and tugs his t-shirt down his shoulder, leaving him feeling cold and exposed. Gabe’s head dips into the crook of his neck, mouthing bloody kisses to William’s throat and shoulder. His hand traces the prominent lines of William’s collarbones; for a brief moment, William feels skinny,  _ actually _ skinny, and just that is arousing on its own, causing a moan.

Then Gabe’s lips part and his fangs sink in, blood swelling up and gushing onto his tongue. William still tastes as warm and youthful as ever; still malnourished, but so fucking  _ warm. _

Meanwhile, William’s arms wind around Gabe’s waist, pulling him closer as he sucks at his neck. There’s one recurring thought in William’s thought through the haze, and that thought is  _ six-hundred calories. _ Six-hundred calories being siphoned away, maybe more if William can convince Gabe to have sex with him. That’d burn even more calories, wouldn’t it?

“Gabe,” William moans, hoping he sounds enticing enough. He’d burn so many more calories if they had sex. Even if they haven’t really so far, even if it’s just been nothing further than kissing, because apparently Gabe thinks he’s “fragile.”

But William has the upper hand. He has the blood. And he doesn’t think he’s, in any way,  _ fragile. _

He takes a step back, pulling Gabe with him until he’s backed himself up against the kitchen counter. In the darkness, Gabe doesn’t notice where William’s hands are drifting until they’re just there, delving underneath his shirt and feeling up his back. William tries not to think about Gabe’s spine, but his fingers keep returning there. William wonders whether his own spine feels like that, but the thought is interrupted by one last, deep gulp of blood so forceful and ravenous that William shivers.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” Gabe says when he raises his head from William’s neck, briskly pushing William’s hands away and detaching himself. “It’s not going to work.”

_ “Gabanti, _ come on,” William begs, but Gabe’s already walking away into the hallway to find the hall closet that contains the first-aid kit they’d used the first time. William follows. “Gabe, seriously? You can’t just-- I know you want to--”

“I do want to,” Gabe says, stopping and twisting the doorknob of the hall closet. “But I don’t think we should, especially not tonight.”

“You’re being stupid,” William mutters. Because, while six-hundred calories is adequate, more is even better. And he supposes the pleasure would be an added bonus as well.

Gabe tears open the first aid kit and sets it down on a hallway side table, then rifles through for bandages. “Says the guy who took a steak knife to his fucking hand.” He groans, briefly turning to look at him. “Bilvy, what the fuck even was that? Are you crazy?”

“No,” William protests, as Gabe finds two adequately-sized bandages and then takes him by his wrist, dragging him into the kitchen to rinse off the blood. “Is it too much to ask--”

“Can we talk about this some other time?” Gabe turns on the faucet, gently sticking William’s hand under the rush of cold water while he grabs a paper towel, wets it, and gingerly begins to clean off the blood coating William’s neck. “I know how you feel about this. But let’s wait until after we’ve proven our point to my friends.”

“Fine,” William grumbles, as Gabe takes away the bloody paper towel and peeks off the backing of a bandage to apply it.

As soon as Gabe’s finished putting on the bandages and snaps the first-aid kit shut, he briefly glances at his phone for the time. “Oh, it’s later than I thought. I really should do my homework. You too.”

“You’re a senior, you barely have homework.”

“Well, I still have  _ some.” _ Gabe shoves his cell phone into his pocket, suddenly in a hurry to leave as he presses a quick kiss to William’s lip and then heads for the door. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow!”

William doesn’t mind how quickly Gabe leaves. As soon as the door slams shut, William’s stomach growls, suddenly buzzing with hunger.

Because Gabe forgot to make him eat. And for William, that’s even better than sex.

  
  
  
  


When William drags his weary body out of bed that next morning, one arm is sore, both his ankles ache. He finds it tiresome to do the simplest of tasks; just going down the stairs is daunting.

This makes him unusually happy. He’s in perfect condition to faint, and because of that, he smiles as he waits for Gabe to pick him up for school. He’d told Gabe that morning he wouldn’t mind walking, but didn’t protest when Gabe had insisted on picking him up. Probably best to save the fainting when he’s actually on campus rather than some random suburban street.

A slight bit of anxiety does creep into William’s empty stomach, making him feel more queasy than hungry, when Gabe’s car does pull up to his house. But when William gives Gabe the customary morning kiss on the cheek and thanks him for picking him up, the pretense of normality seems to do just well enough that Gabe doesn’t seem that worried at all.

“You ate after I bit you last night, right?” Gabe asks. And William simply nods, because further explanation might be suspicious. “Cool.” He shifts the car gear into reverse and backs out of the driveway, half-distracted as he asks, “Are you sure you still wanna faint in front of my friends, though? We have enough time before class to get coffee or something if you want.”

“It won’t be realistic if I eat,” William says, although coffee does sound good even if all he drinks is bitter black, no sugar, no flavor. “So I’m good. But if you want coffee, I’m not stopping you from getting it.”

“I was asking  _ you _ if you want coffee. I’ll pay--”

“I don’t want coffee!” William snaps. “If you want to prove a point to your friends, just leave me alone and  _ trust _ me!”

Gabe’s grip on the wheel tightens, but he keeps his voice level as he spits,  _ “Fine! _ I’ll trust you. I’ll stop bothering you about this shit, and then we’ll see where you really end up, huh?”

“Good!” William says, crossing his arms and turning to glare out the window as they drive.

  
  
  
  


William gets through homeroom and struggles through Spanish. When the teacher calls on him and asks him to change a sentence from preterite tense to imperfect tense, his mind completely blanks. Everything feels surreal, strange, like a night without sleep even though he actually got a full eight hours. His limbs are numb, his thoughts detached. Reality is dreamlike and startling all at the same time. Figures passing, words floating, colors and shapes and hazes and black dots.

His neck hurts, too.

But he has to get to lunch. He  _ has _ to. If he doesn’t faint in front of Gabe’s friends, this will all be for nothing. It can’t all be for nothing, not when William’s going to such lengths to feel as shitty as this. And if he can’t get to lunch, he has to at least get to second period, in which he has Gourmet Foods (a class that never fails to torture him) with Ryland and Alex. But if he gets through second period, he  _ has _ to make it to lunch, or then he’ll faint in third period Gym, right in front of Sisky and Mike and Gabe, and it’ll have the exact opposite intended effect.

So, yeah. Second period or lunch. No other possibilities in William’s weak rationale. He has to help Gabe.  _ And be skinny. _ But mostly help Gabe.  _ But mostly be skinny. _

William steps into the cooking classroom, and that’s when he knows he’s  _ definitely _ going to faint this morning, because the mere wafting of the warm scent of whatever the previous class had baked causes his stomach to growl loudly. Very loudly. Ryland and Alex, who are already grabbing aprons and tying them around their waists, immediately look up at the sound and don’t seem surprised the source is their friend’s anorexic boyfriend.

“Hey, do you wanna be in our group today?” Alex asks out of the blue, even though they’ve never really asked William to be in their group before.

“Usually I’m with Pete and Ryan--” William tries to say, but Ryland is already grabbing an apron out of the laundry basket at the front of the classroom and shoving it at William with a friendly smile.

“You’re Gabe’s boyfriend, we want to get to know you better. Come on, dude. It’s just one day. Pete and Ryan will be fine-- well,  _ mostly _ fine, without you.”

William isn’t reluctant because he knows Pete will probably accidentally put a knife in the microwave when he’s melting butter again, but rather apprehensive because the way Ryland and Alex are looking at him expectantly, gentle expressions to hide the worry behind their eyes, reminds him a lot of when his grandma kindly urges him to eat as much as he wants at family dinners. Apparently there’s such a thing as being  _ too _ skinny, at least for men.

But, then again, if he’s in their group, William’s fainting will be  _ their _ problem, not Pete and Ryan’s. If Ryland and Alex are the ones who have to save him from falling face-first into a hot oven  _ (this is totally still a good idea) _ , it’ll make them  _ much _ more concerned than if they were passively watching from across the room. Maybe even horrified. And then they’ll never be suspicious of Gabe ever again, and William will eat some cookies after class after he tries to tell Ryland and Alex he doesn’t really need any, and he’ll thereafter prove to his boyfriend that he's completely capable of this and absolutely fine.

“Sure,” William says with a shrug, and he knots the apron around his waist. As they collect their ingredients, he notices the stark contrast of his tinted-blue nails against the pure white bag of sugar. He’d really thought that one nasty binge two weeks ago had taken care of the discoloration, but apparently not.  _ But that means you’re doing better, _ his malnourished, hazy head supplies.  _ Imagine if Ryland and Alex see your blue nails. Then they’ll  _ really _ be worried. _

Still, William hides his nails by curling them into fists as he watches Alex measure out the ingredients for sugar cookies. His feet start to hurt as he stands, his arms uncomfortably sore, and he’s very glad that Alex seems to like being the one to do everything from getting the bowls to cracking the eggs, while Ryland secretly tries to memorize his script for the school musical whenever the teacher isn’t looking. In a way, it’s a nice change of pace.

But he’s been standing too long. The black dots multiply in his vision, and everything grows blurry. He leans back against the counter, but that’s not enough to quell the impending unconsciousness.  _ At least I won’t fall headfirst into an oven if it’s now, _ William thinks, and then his knees buckle, and everything’s black for a flash of a second.

When vision returns, he’s on the floor. He groans, elbow throbbing, and tries to sit up. He fails obviously, because his arms tremble when he puts the weight of his shoulders on them and unsuccessfully attempts to push up from the floor.

Ryland and Alex are immediately kneeling at William’s side, and everyone in the vicinity is looking over and starting to crowd around with curiosity.

“Are you okay?” they both ask, helping him to sit up. William nods.

“I’m good,” William says. He hides his nails by fisting his hands against the floor, his knuckles deathly pale and defined. “I think… I just forgot to eat breakfast this morning.”

Ryland and Alex exchange doubtful glances, and William has to hide a smile, because he knows he’s just proven his point to Gabe.

  
  
  
  


By now, William is very good at convincing teachers that he doesn’t need to go to the nurse’s office, so the cooking teacher gives him some of the last class’s leftover cookies and sends someone to the vending machine for him. So as Alex continues to make the cookie recipe and Ryland half-practices his script and half-watches William, William gets to sit and eat two sugar cookies, a bag of chips, and an orange gatorade. Almost like when he taught Gabe to chew and spit. Except William’s definitely not chewing and spitting the chips this time, so that’s great.

After the sugar cookies have been baked and cooled, Ryland and Alex make William take extra to eat. Up next is Gym, and now that William’s slightly less weak, he’s definitely up to telling Gabe all about his cooking class fainting escapade.

  
  
  
  


William tells him it casually. “I fainted in Gourmet Foods,” he says to Gabe, as his shirt is halfway pulled-off. “In front of Ryland and Alex.”

“Yeah, they texted me about it as soon as it happened.” William’s vision is obscured by his shirt, so as soon as it’s off, he turns around to face Gabe, who’s already tying his sneakers on the bench and… surprisingly, grinning. “I’m sorry about this morning,” Gabe says. “Because really, you saved my  _ ass.” _

William doesn’t know what he expected. Probably more shock, not this much gratefulness. His expression turns to confusion. “What do you mean?”

Gabe moves onto tying his other shoe. “Ryland caught me chewing and spitting a candy bar in homeroom.”

William turns back around to hide his grimace. “Oh.”

“But now it’s like nothing ever happened!” Gabe finishes with his other shoe and shoots off the bench. “I thought he was going to kill me as soon as I got to lunch and told everyone. But then in the halls, as I was walking to Gym, we ran into each other and he seemed so worried about you.” He chuckles. “This is working, Bilvy, this is  _ seriously _ working!”

“What’s working?” Sisky asks, him and Mike having taken a momentary break from whipping their shirts at each other to eavesdrop.

“Nothing!” William blurts, trying to shoo Sisky and Mike away. Unfortunately, they are intrigued by Gabe’s unnatural excitement and therefore do not budge.

“Tell us, Gabe,” Mike asks, leaning in and mischievously cocking an eyebrow. “What exactly is working?”

“Nothing,” Gabe says, reaffirming William’s word. “Go back to trying to get detention for tackling each other shirtless, heteros.”

Sisky and Mike sigh and mutter under their breath that Gabe’s a buzzkill, but they do leave them alone, so at least there’s that. As soon as they’re out of earshot, William spins toward Gabe and scolds, “Don’t be so loud next time! This only involves  _ your _ friends. I can’t have mine finding out.”

“Gotcha,” Gabe easily agrees, giving a thumbs up and grinning, because he’s still somewhat brimming with enthusiasm, shifting his balance because he can’t stand still. “But seriously, thank you.  _ Thank you!” _

William just blinks. This isn’t a dream at all. This is real life. “So… I can keep doing my thing?”

“Just until we’ve proven our point,” Gabe promises. “I mean, you’ve been doing it forever, right? A couple of weeks of you just acting like you normally do isn’t going to do that much. It’s not like it’s really been affecting you, anyways.”

William freezes, breath snatched from his lungs.

_ He thinks you’re still fat. He thinks you’re not trying hard enough. _

William blinks again, and he feels like he’s forgotten how to talk as he stutters out, “Oh. Yeah.” He turns back to his locker and pulls out his gym shirt, mumbling, “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

“Thanks!” Gabe chimes, completely clueless. And William digs his nails into the fabric of his shirt, hoping it’ll hide the blue of his nails.

He thought he was doing so well. He’ll just have to do better. Much, much better.

William wanted Gabe not to worry about him, and yet the minute it unexpectedly happens, he craves that loss of trust again.

  
  
  
  


After a few minutes of awkward silence passes at lunch, everyone poking at their cheese fries and stealing occasional glances over to William’s friends’ table, where he doesn’t eat a bite either, Nate eventually breaks the ice by finally picking up one of his cheese fries and says, “My parents will be out of town this weekend. Should I throw a party?”

Secretly, everyone else around the table exhales a sigh of relief, not wanting to approach the delicate topic of William’s fainting. They’d already discussed it through text in their groupchat in between classes, but talking about it for real is something else entirely.

“A party would be fun,” Vicky says.

“Really fun,” Gabe adds.

He looks down at Nate’s cheese fries. And damn, does he really wish he could chew and spit one right now. But he can’t. He can’t tell anyone he’s a vampire, at least as long as William’s willing to cover for him.

  
  
  
  


“A party?” William asks, as soon as Gabe brings up Nate’s idea when he approaches him after lunch ends and they’re walking out of the cafeteria, slowly off to the side of the hall to avoid William’s group of boisterous and nearby friends. “Sounds like fun. How much should I prepare?”

Gabe frowns. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you want me to faint?” William suggests. “Or if you think that’ll get old, I could chew and spit while I’m there. Or I could memorize all the different calorie counts of alcohol and make sly comments about it whenever someone offers me a drink. Or I could--”

“You don’t have to do anything, to be honest,” Gabe says. “Like, basically just keep doing what you're doing. We can probably chill this time unless my friends start getting suspicious of me again. But if you did feel inclined to do any of those things at the party…” He raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“So I should?”

“You don’t necessarily  _ have _ to,” Gabe says. “I know this is probably hard on you--”

“So you don’t think I can handle it?” William snaps.

“That’s not what I meant, calm down.”

“It’s obviously what you meant.” William stops, turning to Gabe, his clenched fists trembling and voice rising as he demands, “Is that what you think of me, that I’m  _ weak?” _

Gabe sighs. “I obviously don’t think that, what the hell are you talking about? Can we not do this in the middle of the hallway?”

Out of the corner of his eye, William sees his friends, who have also stopped a few feet down the hall and are staring curiously. Immediately, he unclenches his fists and lets his gaze drop to the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Do you think it’s because you’re…” Gabe pauses, the next word feeling almost blasphemous to say because he knows William hates it when he asks. “...hungry?”

William scoffs. “Of course not.” The two sugar cookies, potato chips, and orange gatorade filled him up just fine. And he’d eaten a little bit of the soggy broccoli at lunch too, as well as two of Butcher’s tater tots (which he, admittedly, still feels really stupid for).

But as he thinks about it, he  _ wants _ more. His stomach is an endless ravine, all-too-happily engulfing whatever he can get his fat little fingers on. If he wasn’t so controlled, he’d have gained so much weight by now, he’d have binged and binged and binged--  _ fuck, _ a binge would be so good. He should make that half-opened pizza in the freezer for dinner--  _ no, no, no. Bad idea. BAD idea. _

He’s in control. Completely in control.

“Maybe you should eat something with iron, considering--”

“I’ll be  _ fine,” _ William interjects, almost exhaustedly. “Back to the subject at hand, Nate’s party. I’ll try to act like a disordered bitch like I always do. Happy?”

Gabe shrugs. “Yeah, that's fine. I’m just saying, now that we’ve pretty much got them off my back, you could tone it down if you  _ wanted, _ but--”

“But you don’t want me to tone it down,” William states, trying to sound as calm and rational and non-hungry as possible. “You want me to keep being your distracted, hungry bitch for them to take pity on.”

“That isn’t how I feel about you, Bill, you know that.” Gabe’s tone seeps with sympathy. “Is something up?”

_ You don’t think I’m trying hard enough, _ William thinks.  _ You’re just too nice to say it to my fucking fatass face. _

“It’s fine,” William says, glancing at his friends again, who are unsurprisingly still trying to eavesdrop. Hopefully unsuccessfully, because the hallways are crowded and loud. “I’ve got Chemistry next, and that’s on the third floor, so I probably should get going--”

“But you’ll come to Nate’s party, right?” Gabe asks. “We’re thinking Friday night. You can invite your friends, too--”

“I’m not inviting them,” William says, already turning away. “But I’ll come.”

He tries to walk past his friends, pretending they aren’t there, but of course Sisky stops him and asks, “What were you and Gabe talking about?”

“Nothing,” William says, stopping to temporarily speak to Sisky but his posture still tense, brimming with anxiety, ready to flee. “Just some party. It’s really nothing.”

“Party?” Mike’s eyes light up. “He’s having a party? Can we come?”

“He isn’t, Nate Novarro is. And  _ no,” _ William says firmly, staring daggers at Mike. “You can’t.”

“What? Because we’re not cool enough for seniors?”

“No. Because you just can’t.” Mike opens his mouth again, but before he can protest, William turns around, citing, “I gotta get to class,” and rushes away.

  
  
  
  


William ends up binging on pizza that night, greasy cheese and slimy sauce and warm crust and  _ everything _ that makes him feel abhorrent. He sits against the cabinets on the kitchen floor, biting back tears and staring at the empty cardboard tray he had licked free of crumbs. So much fat. So many carbs. So many  _ calories. _

His cellphone is next to him.

Usually, he would call Gabe after a binge like this. Gabe would console him through it, would tell him he’s perfect, would talk him out of purging.

But William falters as he reaches for the cellphone. He doesn’t know exactly why, but he has a feeling Gabe wouldn’t say the same things as he did two weeks ago.

Instead, he struggles to his feet and drags himself to the bathroom. His knees thud as he falls to the tile in front of the toilet.

And he does what he always did after binges, before Gabe came along. William sticks his fingers down his throat, teeth scraping against his boney knuckles, and just tells himself that this is necessary, that this will be over soon enough.

  
  
  
  


Friday night comes fast and all at once. Gabe brings William to the party shortly before Nate’s party has become a mess of red solo cups and people, when the living room is relatively empty and the alcohol bottles on the kitchen counters are still neatly lined up. While the rest of Gabe’s friends are lounging in the living room, William’s in the kitchen, tracing his fingers across the bottles of alcohol while Gabe pours out a bag of chips into a bowl.

“I memorized the calories in alcohol,” William mentions, his fingers lingering over a bottle of whiskey. “Just in case.”

Gabe keeps dumping out chips and doesn’t say anything. He glances over, watching William’s slender fingers trail back and forth across the bottles before ripping open another bag, conveniently ignoring the ghastly blue of his boyfriend’s nails.

  
  
  
  


Two hours later, William has already informed Vicky of just how many calories were in one glass of wine when she’d offered to pour one for him, as well as chewed and spat some chips while staring Alex right in the eyes. He’s feeling great, especially great when Gabe abruptly pulls him aside, causing William’s remaining ninety-three calories of wine to slosh over the rim of his plastic cup. He’s tugged up the stairs and into the empty upstairs hallway, which is almost silent apart from the bass of the music thrumming downstairs.

“Hey,” Gabe whispers hotly into William’s ear, pressing him against the wall. His breath reeks of alcohol as he ducks his head, the tips of his teeth skidding lightly over William’s neck.

William, being slightly more sober, immediately knows exactly what Gabe wants. “Gabe, we just--” But then he stops.  _ Six-hundred calories. _

“A little bit.” Gabe raises his head to look William in the eyes. “Just a little bit,” he murmurs, before he presses his lips to William’s, licking into his mouth and a hand reaching up to gently caress his jaw. William leans into it, remembering,  _ six-hundred. _ “I think getting drunk makes me thirsty. I can’t help it.”

“That’s fine,” William says, even though he wants to make a comment that Gabe should be more careful next time. Thirst so suddenly, especially when all rational thoughts are muddled by alcohol, is hardly fine. But for the time being, William is only thinking about calories.

Gabe pauses, the hesitation creeping in.

“Gabe,” William begs, tugging on his arm. “Come on, bite me.  _ Gabe.” _

Instead, Gabe attempts to pull away. “No, this was a bad idea--”

“You can’t just stop.” William, still grasping his arm, steers him back in his direction. “You said you would. I want it, you want it--”

“How much have you eaten today?”

“What do you mean?”

Gabe gnaws on his bottom lip, avoiding his boyfriend’s eyes before he repeats the question: “How much have you eaten today?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“And that’s exactly the problem.” He meets William’s eyes. “I wish I could trust you. I wish I could trust myself. But you’ll fucking do anything to lose weight. You don’t want this. You want to, I don’t know, burn calories or faint dramatically in front of everyone--”

Although William knows in his gut that Gabe’s guesses are correct, it still feels like a stab in the heart. “I don’t. I swear, I do actually want this.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” He pries William’s fingers off his arm. “You lie. You manipulate me. You hurt yourself and everyone around you. Why the hell do you think I won’t sleep with you?”

William’s mouth is hanging open, incredulous at Gabe. “Fuck you,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “As if you can talk. You think  _ I’m _ using you? That I’m  _ manipulating _ you?” He steps forward. “You’re the one who laughed with glee when I conveniently fainted in front of Ryland and he forgot you chew and spit! I’m not the one making myself sicker. You can sit on your high horse and think you’re doing the right thing by refusing to bite me and fuck me, but in reality, you’re just as bad as me, encouraging me to starve myself! If you cared, you would have told them that you’re a vampire already!”

“That’s ridiculous--” Gabe starts, but William ignores him and walks right past, making a beeline for the staircase.

Gabe’s feet are glued to the carpet of Nate’s upstairs hallway for a few beats, absorbing the shock of William’s accusations before he finally turns around to go after him, to refute exactly what he’d said.

But halfway down the stairs, all Gabe sees is the swarm of people. William’s gone.

  
  
  
  


As soon as William has locked himself in the downstairs bathroom, he stands in front of the mirror and takes stock of his appearance. His eyes are sallow and reddened by the onslaught of tears that threatens to break at any moment, and there’s a small, red droplet of blood on his shoulder from where one of Gabe’s fangs must have accidentally nicked him before his hesitation.

He reaches up to the drop of blood, wiping it away under the pad of his thumb. His finger lingers, and then he’s seized with the sudden sensation of fresh panic and restlessness, an urge to scream and kick in frustration until his voice is hoarse and foot broken.

Instead of doing any such thing, he digs his fingernails into where they rest on his shoulder, and drags them as deep and hard as he can down the skin exposed by the deep v-neck he wears. He claws again, and again, until it becomes scratching, swift and furious. He doesn’t stop when the cell phone in his pocket starts to vibrate incessantly, most likely Gabe’s texts begging for forgiveness that William quite frankly doesn’t give a shit about right now. His flesh becomes red and raw and starts to sting, his nails drawing white pale lines up and down, up and down. The blood comes easily after a few minutes, appearing at first in small dots and then pooling over the self-inflicted scratches. It drips down, tracing the curve of his collarbone and running down his rib-indented chest.

_ It’s what I deserve, _ William thinks as he watches a stain grow at the collar of his shirt. It’s not six-hundred calories. It’s not from Gabe. But it’s what he deserves. Already, the tightness behind his bleary, wet eyes is starting to lessen.

But he still knows it won’t be enough.

He turns toward the toilet and bends down, throwing the toilet lid up. His neck stings as he cranes his head over the bowl, staring down at the tinted-blue water. The faint smell of someone’s previous alcohol-infused vomit looms; at least William won’t be at fault for any rancid aromas when there’s already so many others to blame.

He sticks his fingers into his mouth. His nails are caked with blood; he stops for a second to lick at it, leaving an iron taste on the tip of his tongue before he pushes his fingers deeper. His blunt teeth scratch against his already worn-thin knuckles as his fingers prod at the back of his throat. He coughs, raspy and hoarse and loud. He prods again, and coughs again, this time his stomach giving a satisfying and sickening lurch. Again. Again.

The vomit rises and spills out of his mouth just as he tears his fingers out of his mouth. His phone vibrates again. He ignores it.

It’s all thin and liquid and yellow. A pure mix of alcohol and stomach acid and nothing else.

William wonders how many calories his body will burn to replenish all that stomach acid. Probably not as much as blood. But it’s still got to be something, right?

  
  
  


After laying on the floor for a couple of minutes and revelling in the putrid smell of his own vomit, someone knocks on the bathroom door and asks, “Hey, you done yet?”

“I’ll--” William coughs lightly. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

He forces himself to his feet, blinking until the dizziness settles into a mostly-discernable wavering background, and twists the doorknob, stumbling past the bathroom’s next drunken occupant and into the hallway. The music is louder than he remembers it being, the pounding in his ears almost matched to his heart rate. It’s fast.

William wanders into the living room, scanning the crowd for Gabe. He feels like he’s going to collapse, and if he does it in anyone’s arms, he wants it to be his, even with their recent fight.

But he isn’t there. William finds a free seat on a couch, flops down, and checks his cellphone.

**_I’m sorry, can we talk?_ **

**_Please reply_ **

**_Where are you?_ **

**_2 missed calls from Gabanti <3_ **

William sighs and rests the back of his head on the couch, ignoring the cellphone in his lap and instead staring up at the ceiling.

Nate’s ceiling is the ugly popcorn kind, the kind that’ll make you hungry if you’re particularly desperate. The texture of the paint drips reminds William of bubbling eggnog or uneven cake icing. He can almost taste the sinful sugar even if getting up and licking the ceiling paint (which would be excusable, considering he drank) would more resemble chalk than actual food. It’d probably irritate his tongue too. Oh well. If he was drunker, maybe he’d be more willing to add pica to his growing list of fucked-up behavior, which at this point is getting alarmingly long.

“William?” a familiar voice asks from behind him. William sits back up and turns around to see, much to his surprise, Sisky and Butcher.

“What are you guys  _ doing _ here?” William hisses. “I told you not to come!”

“Yeah, but we asked Nate and he said we could come, so we decided to surprise you. Do you know where Carden and Chiz are--” Sisky’s eyes fall to William’s still-bleeding shoulder which he awkwardly points to. “Um… what happened?”

William’s hand flies up to cover his shoulder. “Nothing.” He stands up, maybe a little too fast, and he ignores the lightheadedness. “I gotta go. But you guys enjoy the party.”

“Are you sure you don’t want any help with that?” Butcher asks with a grimace. William glances down and sees blood seeping through his fingers.

“I’m good,” William promises, turning around and ambling away, hoping his friends don’t follow.

  
  
  
  


After he stops on the stairs, realizing William’s disappeared into the sea of teenagers, Gabe has another realization; this isn’t worth it anymore.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the memories or the alcohol making him dizzy, but either way, there is something so inherently  _ fucked _ about encouraging his boyfriend’s disordered behavior. Earlier that week, he’d smiled as William mentioned fainting in front of his friends.  _ Smiled. _ Now, the thought of William collapsing in a classroom sends a shudder down his spine.  _ I was so stupid, _ Gabe thinks, gripping the stair railing tight. _ ¡Fui tan jodidamente estúpido! _

He has to end this right now, before it can get any worse.

He releases the stair railing and descends the rest of the stairs. He pushes through the crowd and searches the living room, the kitchen, the dining room for any possible glimpse of William, but he’s still nowhere. Gabe shoots off a few texts to him, and while waiting for a reply, decides the next best course of action to take would be to tell the truth to his friends. It’s probably not the best time to decide this, considering by now there’s no way any of them are sober, but as the heavy burden of guilt starts to weigh on his shoulders, Gabe itches to relieve it.

After asking around, he finds his friends outside, sitting on the backyard porch steps. They reek of alcohol, but there aren’t any traces of weed, so  _ maybe _ they’re in an alright-enough condition to hear what Gabe has to say. That’s still doubtful, but Gabe’s not of the most sober mindset either to care.

“Hey, guys, can I talk to you about something?” he asks, sinking down onto the bottom step and turning to them.

“Sounds serious,” Alex says, taking a swig from his cup. “So, when’d you knock William up?”

Gabe snorts and shoves him lightly. “It is actually serious, you know.”

“Lay it on us,” Vicky says.

“Is it about…” Ryland stops. “You know…”

Gabe purses his lips. “Sort of,” he admits. “I’ve... been lying to you guys.”

“Wait, so William isn’t actually an anorexic?” Vicky demands. “But then how’d he get so--”

“He  _ is,” _ Gabe says. “It’s just that I’ve been… using him, I guess. To cover up my own secret. Which was really shitty of me to do.”

Nate raises a brow. “What secret? Are you actually an anorexic too--”

“No!” Gabe blurts out. “Fuck, no. I’m a vampire.”

The muggy night air is still for a few moments before his friends all burst out cackling, doubling over in laughter.

“A  _ vampire?” _ Alex chuckles. “I mean, I almost believed that for a second! With the pale skin and you refusing to eat with us on Spaghetti Day…” His laughter fades as the realization comes to the surface, and he stops and exhales, just as everyone else does. “Oh.”

“You’re… you’re not  _ actually _ a vampire, though?” Ryland asks. “Tell us this is some elaborate prank. We’ve seen you in sunlight, we’ve seen you in mirrors--”

“Mirrors are a myth,” Gabe says straightforwardly. “And I can go in sunlight, as long as it’s not super bright out. I was only chewing and spitting because if I swallow real food, I throw up. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you guys for so long and used William to cover it up.”

“Wait…” Alex says. “So… William fainted on  _ purpose?” _

Gabe shrugs. “Pretty much. He was really dedicated to it.”

When Gabe glances up, all he sees are horrified stares.

“That’s… fuck, that’s awful,” Vicky comments.

“And you  _ encouraged _ that?” Ryland asks.

“It wasn’t like he was ever going to actually listen to me telling him to recover--” Gabe defends, but before he can finish his justification, he hears footsteps clamoring on the porch. He looks up to see that all four of William’s friends; Sisky, Butcher, Mike, and Chislett, have run out onto the deck in search of him.

“Have you seen William?” Sisky asks. “Because I thought you should know, because he’s your boyfriend, that he’s kinda  _ bleeding?” _

Gabe feels the weight of his friends' eyes on him, and he exclaims, “It wasn’t me!” He shoots up from the porch steps and marches up toward Sisky. “Do you know where he went?”

“I saw him go out the front door when I was coming out of the bathroom,” Mike says. “Which, by the way, Nate, you should really spray some febreeze in or something. I think someone vomited in there.”

“Out the front door?” Gabe asks.  _ Mierda, _ William could be anywhere by now. And if he’s bleeding like Sisky says, which Gabe doesn’t even want to think how  _ that _ happened, he’s not in the best state to be going anywhere, either. “Do you know what direction he went?”

Mike shrugs. “Beats me.”

“Thanks,” Gabe rushes back down the porch steps and around the house to the front doorstep. The house lights illuminate the emptiness of the front yard, where William is nowhere to be seen. Just houses and cars and street surrounding him, a maze of suburbia to get lost in. Gabe digs his cell phone out of his pocket and tries to call William again. No response.

But the faint, almost missable scent of blood hits his nose. The aroma winds loosely through the air like a path right in front of him, a wisp of iron guiding him to William.

He races to the sidewalk and down the road, chasing after the smell before it can disappear from him completely. It leads him down a few blocks, through the sprawling suburbia, until it takes him across the road and into a small community park. It’s entirely silent besides the creak of swings in the wind, the lull of crickets in the bushes. The iron is stronger here. Much stronger.

Gabe spins around. “William?” he calls out. “William, are you here?”

A groan comes from underneath a playground slide. His voice is a ghostly shiver. “G...Gabe?”

“Bill!” Gabe runs to the slide and falls to his knees. The blood hits his nose like a punch to the face, one inhale permeating every inch of his lungs with the sweet substance and drying his throat.

But he can’t think about the taste. All he sees is William, eyes lidded, fingernails a deathly shade of blue, cheeks pallid.

“What happened?” Gabe asks, reaching out for his shoulder. “Let me help you up, we’ll walk back to Nate’s--”

“Can’t,” William says weakly, lifting a trembling hand to point to his neck. “I… I scratched myself,” he says, even though the amount of blood that paints his neck is far beyond what Gabe would expect him to be able to self-inflict with only his  _ nails. _ “And I made myself throw up. And after I walked out of Nate’s house… I started scratching again. It’s bad now. Really bad now.”

Gabe cups his cheek. “Bilvy…”

“I’m sorry,” William shudders. “I think… this is it. Look at how blue my nails are.”

Gabe doesn’t need to look down at William’s nails to know that he’s dying. He can hear the starving struggle of William’s heart, the gradual thuds. He wouldn’t make it to a hospital. He’s lost too much blood, especially considering how much Gabe had taken a few days ago and now what’s smattered across his shoulders and the rubber ground underneath the slide. The liquid glistens in the dim glow from the streetlights, a glow that does nothing to liven William’s lifeless eyes and color his colorless skin.

And all Gabe can think is that this is his own fault. It’s only gotten this far because of him, to the brink of  _ death. _

“This isn’t it,” Gabe states, determined. William’s brows furrow slightly, but before he can ask what he means, Gabe raises his own wrist to his mouth and bites down. Blood gushes out from under his fangs, dripping down his wrist.

“No,” William gasps out, eyes suddenly wide, as he realizes exactly what Gabe’s doing when he extends his wrist toward him. With sudden, panicked will, he tries to sit up to crawl away, but only ends up falling back onto his elbows. “I can’t-- Gabe, I’m not ready to be a vampire! I’ll be fat, I won’t lose any weight--”

Gabe ignores his pleas, ducking his head so as not to hit the slide as he straddles William’s hips and forces his wrist between William’s lips. When William refuses to swallow, he leans down, using his free hand to caress William’s locks of hair as he whispers into his ear, “Lo siento, mi amor, but you have to drink it. Drink it for me, okay?”

William’s tongue tentatively licks the underside of Gabe’s wrist. He starts to suck at the blood, eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of the taste. It’s so… rich, so  _ indulgent. _ If it wasn’t for the way the flavor hypnotizes him, he would be trying to calculate how many calories could possibly be in vampire blood, freaking out at the imaginary feeling of fat blossoming from his bones.

But there’s something in it that temporarily removes that fear, a foreign sensation William hasn’t felt in _years_ while eating: bliss.

“I love you,” Gabe says into William’s ear, for the first time. “I’m not going to hurt you anymore. I’m going to actually try to help you this time. I mean it.”

William doesn’t respond, still lapping up the taste.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about that dark ending... oof.
> 
> I think I might write a part 3, because like, eating disordered vampire? That'll be a really fun concept to explore. I probably won't be as quick to write it though, considering I have other fics I'm currently working on, but I'm absolutely in love with this au and I promise that at some point in the next several months I'll get started on part 3.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fucked up mess of a fic? Let me know! :D
> 
> Instagram: @lostinpacithicctime  
> Twitter: @inpacithicctime


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